


Months of the Year

by RachaelWrites



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anakin is crazy, Dark Anakin, I'm so sorry, M/M, Please Forgive me, Possessive Behavior, dark au, i have a bad habit of putting Obi-Wan through a lot of emotional trauma, mini-series, possesive anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6221110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachaelWrites/pseuds/RachaelWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin liked death, he thought it was lovely. </p><p>Anakin liked Obi-Wan, he thought he was lovely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September

September was an underrated month is there ever was one. The weather was that perfect warm/cool and the leaves were beautiful. They went from the basic green to a rich orange or an alive red. It was terribly ironic considering they were dying, but in his opinion, death was lovely.

Maybe that’s why he smoked so much. Maybe that’s was he made his cuts neat on his left arm and messy on his right. Pretty red lines and gray air. Death was lovely and it was all he wanted. He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to inflict it on others or himself. Who knew?

He was standing on the edge of the roof, his arms spread wide and his eyes closed. The breeze was nice and gentle like a kiss from your mother. It blew his curls about, making them flutter and dance like a puppet.

There was the soft sound of feet on the concrete roof and his head spun around to look at the stranger. It was a petite boy it a large sweater that covered his hands and converse that had defiantly seen better days. He had big baby blues and freckles splashed all over his pale face. Tucked under his arm was a thin book with a glossy cover. The boy ignored him as he sat down and folded his legs underneath him, laying the book out on his lap.

Curious as always, he peered down at the pretty boy and his pretty book. It wasn’t a large, leather bound copy of _The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe_ that the goth and alternative girls pretended to read in the library when they were really just looking at him browse the shelves. Instead the book was thin and shiny, the pages just as glossy as the cover page. He saw pictures of fish and paragraphs in small print under them.

He stepped off the edge and walked over to the boy. He sat down in his personal space and leaned into him, looking at the page. Instead of looking up at him, the boy simply turned the page and sighed.

“Decided not to off yourself?” He asked in a clear, accented voice.

He grinned down at the freckled boy, “I’ll save it for a rainy day.”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you new?” He asked when the topic dropped.

Finally the boy looked up at him, his eyes big and empty. “No.”

“Really? ‘Cause,” he drawled out the world and threw his arm around the smaller boys shoulders, “I haven’t seen you around.”

“I doubt you've seen everyone.”

“See now,” he laughed, “that’s true.”

He turned another page.

“Well,” he said loudly, electing a soft sigh from the boy’s lips, “I’m Anakin Skywalker.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The boy with the fish book said without missing a beat.

“Goodness me, are we becoming friends? Here,” he shifted his weight and pulled out a pack of camels. “Cigarette?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. He raised a dainty hand and pulled a cancer stick out with two slender fingers. Anakin handed him a lighter. He covered the end and lit it quickly, like he’d done it a million times. Obi-Wan handed the lighter back and Anakin jerked at how cold his hands were.

“What are you, a ghost?”

He pulled a face at that. “No, but you know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart.”

Anakin nodded, considering. “Seems fair.”

Obi-Wan had already returned his attention to his book, “I suppose.”

“So you like fish?”

“I mean, I guess so. I like the backgrounds more. They can swim all over the majority of the planet and see so much we can’t,” he said wistfully.

Anakin hummed in agreement. They were quiet for a while, the only noise made from the turning of pages. “So,” he drawled. “What caused you to come up here?”

Obi-Wan’s hands froze and he remained still, thinking. “Well,” he said softly. “The lunch room is a little too crowed and I don’t exactly like my friends.”

“Ah, of course. The classic my friends are assholes and I’m too stuck up in my ‘I understand the universe too much for someone of my age’ crisis.” He grinned down at Obi-Wan with his eyebrows raised.

“No.”

He waited for an elaboration and got none.

More pages turned and more cigarettes disappeared.

“Why not go to the library?” He asked, trying to get more information. He couldn’t help it, he was nosy.

“And sit was all the goths and phoney existentialists? They’re more full of shit than our teachers.”

Anakin laughed at that. “I like you.” He gave Obi-Wan a squeeze and rested his head on his head, closing his eyes and listening to the pages turn.

* * *

 

Anakin made sure to ditch math every sixth period and go to the roof. Obi-Wan would always appear a few minutes later. They’d sit and look through whatever book he’d found that time. Anakin liked the ones on space best. He liked the stars and the planets. The moons were nice too, but those were Obi-Wan’s favorites, those and the black holes, pulling the universe into who knows where.

Sometimes they’d listen to music. They had surprisingly similar taste, which made life a little easier. Obi-Wan always wanted to listen to his favorite playlist that was composed of only Artic Money and Catfish and the Bottlemen songs. Anakin didn’t mind.

They’d always smoke. Anakin loved watching Obi-Wan smoke. He seemed so peaceful in his too large sweaters and cloud of smoke. His lips reminded him of peach colored roses. They were so soft and delicate, just like their owner. He wanted to his them. So he did. Obi-Wan didn’t protest, so they did it some more.

He liked that when he got close enough, he could smell the mint, smoke and roses that radiated off of Obi-Wan. He liked that Obi-Wan tasted like burn sugar and honey; ridiculously sweet. He liked that Obi-Wan’s hair was like cotton and he liked the sounds Obi-Wan made when he pulled his hair. He liked how Obi-Wan hid his hands except for when he was smoking. He liked how Obi-Wan could talk about anything, even the most random of things, and know all about it. He liked how Obi-Wan had a great taste in music. He liked Obi-Wan.

* * *

 

One day, Obi-Wan didn’t come up to the roof. Anakin went into a fit of rage. He yelled and stomped around, burning through cigarettes like some addict. He wasn’t an addict. No, he was mad. He was mad that Obi-Wan broke their silent rule of always being on the roof at sixth period. For fucks sake, he had missed math for the past three weeks.

The school had called his _mother_ , who he reassured that it was for a good reason. She had smiled wearily and spoken sticky sweet words to appease him. Anything to keep his… _problem_ , at ease.

Obi-Wan had said he didn’t like his friends, and that’s why he was on the roof in the first place. Had he gone crawling back to them? That wasn’t okay. Sixth period was when Obi-Wan belonged to Anakin. For now, that was enough; he’d wait for Obi-Wan to say ‘more.’ But until then, he had forty-two minutes, less, because Obi-Wan always went to the library first to get a book. He was kind, he hadn’t demanded more, but this was unacceptable.

Sixth period, Obi-Wan belonged to him.

* * *

 

For the rest of the day, he was furious. Anakin always treated his things with care. He was always good to his things; he made sure they didn’t get damaged. Sure, nothing had ever been alive before, but he took care of Obi-Wan. He brought him cigarettes and kind words and kisses. He tried to talk to Obi-Wan about his home or his friends and was always respectful when he dodged the topics. Anakin went out of his way for Obi-Wan, so how could he just…leave him?

When he went to his locker at the end of eighth period, there was a blue sticky note. In curly, neat script was a message.

Anakin,

I’m sorry I couldn’t be on the roof today. I had a problem at home and just couldn’t make it. If you want, you can call me. I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

~Obi-Wan

Anakin quickly entered the number into his phone and carefully put the sticky note in a binder, preserving the first physical thing Obi-Wan had let for him.

Oh yes, he liked Obi-Wan

 


	2. October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But as the leaves fell, Anakin's walls went with them.

October had charm. It was chilly and lovely. Anakin was not a summer person. He belonged to autumn and all its delights. He belonged to the sharp wind and dying leaves. He belonged to the gentle caress of colors that danced in his eyesight. He liked the leaves the most. They died in such a pretty manner. Maybe that’s why he liked autumn so much. He liked death and pretty things; leaves were so pretty when they died.

Anakin wasn’t a fan of letting love in, not after what had happened. But as the leaves fell, all his walls went with them.

At the moment, Anakin was relishing in the perfection that was sixth period. Obi-Wan was curled up at his side on the roof. He had a huge book with a shiny cover in his lap. Obi-Wan had stopped reading out loud a while ago, he wasn’t even sure if the smaller was reading any more. He had his head resting on Anakin’s arm. Anakin had maybe his fourth cigarette dangling from his lips and a pleased look in his eyes as he watched Obi-Wan.

His hand wandered down to pet Obi-Wan’s hair. Soft curls straightened and then sprung back into gentle twists. He liked watching. Anakin’s hand slipped down to Obi-Wan’s neck, rubbing loving circles into his skin.

“I wish I didn’t care so much,” Obi-Wan murmured randomly as he peeked up at Anakin. “I wish I was like you.”

He looked down at the shivering boy, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you just…you don’t seem to care about anything.” He hugged himself tightly, “You seem happier that way.”

Anakin shook his head, “I care about stuff.”

“Oh?” His voice held no malice; instead it was just a whisper almost unheard with the screaming wind.

“I care about good music, the books you bring from our shitty school library, my mom…” he chewed his lower lip, considering. His eyes found Obi-Wan’s. “You.”

He could hear the younger inhale sharply. “Really?”

Anakin cupped Obi-Wan’s face and bent his head down, connecting his lips with Obi-Wan’s. Anakin was demanding and possessive, traits easily seen when he kissed. He licked into Obi-Wan’s mouth, holding his face in place with his hands. He tugged Obi-Wan’s head back, making him more pliable, vulnerable really. Carefully, he brought his left hand down to Obi-Wan’s waist, rubbing circles into his hip with his thumb. When he was sure Obi-Wan wouldn’t move his head out of the position he had placed him in, he brought his right hand down and pulled Obi-Wan into his lap. Obi-Wan made a noise of surprise and Anakin grinned wickedly at the sound.

They pulled back and rested their foreheads together. “Pretty thing,” Anakin breathed out.

“No I’m not,” he slurred.

“What are you talking about?” Anakin asked in disbelief.

Obi-Wan hid his face in Anakin’s collar bone, “I’m not pretty,” he murmured.

Anakin pulled Obi-Wan backwards and grasped his face. “You.” He pressed a kiss to his nose. “Are.” Another to his right cheek. “Beautiful.” He kissed his left cheek.

A blush the color of sunsets rose up from Obi-Wan’s neck to his cheeks. “You’re nice looking too,” he mumbled.

“Nice looking, ay?” He snickered.

“Mhm.”

Anakin placed a snow storm of butterfly kisses all over Obi-Wan’s face. The younger giggled loudly and pushed Anakin back half-heartedly. His light battering on Anakin’s chest faded as Obi-Wan reached his hands up to Anakin’s face. He leaned their faces together and his breathing evened out. Carefully, he pressed their lips together. It was soft and gentle, loving and docile. Anakin associated those words with Obi-Wan and now his kisses.

“God, you’re wonderful.” He breathed against Obi-Wan’s lips. “So perfect and wonderful.”

“I’m not perfect,” Obi-Wan whispered in a serious voice.

Anakin frowned, an occurrence that twisted his whole face. A shadow casted over his tan skin and his eyes got dark.

Obi-Wan noticed and acted quickly by placing his hands on the side of Anakin’s face. “But it’s okay.” He pressed their noses together which was really just awkward and uncoordinated bumping. “If I were perfect I wouldn’t be real, I wouldn’t like myself at all,” he hesitated. “I wouldn’t be me.”

His eyes lightened. “Fair. I like you this way anyways.” He placed his hands over Obi-Wan’s and gave them a squeeze. “Don’t change. Ever.” His voice was low and almost threatening.

“Okay,” he whispered back.

* * *

 

It was his first time being with Obi-Wan outside of sixth period. They were sitting in the red heads room. The walls were a dark purple and had strings of fairy lights dangling off the walls, offering light to the dark room. His bed was big and plush. He had chiffon curtains hanging from a small circle hanging from his ceiling. One wall was lined completely with old poetry books and random authors whose words were hidden away in leather bound book.

Anakin liked Obi-Wan’s room. It was a perfect reflection of him. From the old books to the strings of lights to doodles on sticky notes, it all screamed Obi-Wan. They were currently sitting on Obi-Wan’s bed. Anakin had the smaller boy perched in his lap, snuggled into his chest.

“Do you like unknown artists and writers because no one else knows them?” Anakin asked in a teasing tone.

Obi-Wan’s head shot up and he looked at Anakin is disbelief. “No! I’d like them even if they _were_ mainstream. I like their message. Words have the most power in this world. If they have words then they have power, so if they use it in a meaningful way that speaks to me, then I will listen and read. If a mainstream artist were to write a song and it spoke to me, I’d listen to their song.” He looked beyond upset.

Anakin quickly soothed his hands over Obi-Wan’s back. “I’m sorry. I was just…wondering.” Obi-Wan still looked uncertain which caused panic to stir in Anakin’s stomach. He pulled Obi-Wan flush against his chest. “Please don’t be mad. I like the way you think. Don’t be mad at me.” He tightened his grip around Obi-Wan as to keep him from escaping.

Against his chest, Obi-Wan spoke softly, “It’s okay…don’t worry about.” His words were hidden by the material of Anakin’s shirt. “I’m not mad.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to be mad at him.

Obi-Wan smiled at him and kissed him softly. Anakin grinned and pushed Obi-Wan flat against the bed. He caged the smaller under his arms and kissed back harshly. He dominated the kiss, taking the lead away from Obi-Wan. His hands rubbed up at down Obi-Wan’s torso. He moaned softly, encouraging Anakin to continue.

He moved his mouth down to Obi-Wan’s neck and collar bones. He bit and sucked on the delicate skin his mouth found. Large, red, love bites were left in his wake. His hands slipped behind Obi-Wan’s back and he pulled him into a sitting position. With one hand he tugged Obi-Wan’s shirt off his lithe form before lowering him back to the thick quilt blanket. Anakin left more and more love bites on his chest. Obi-Wan had his head tipped back with needy moans slipping from his mouth.

“Anakin…” he exhaled.

He moved and covered Obi-Wan’s mouth with his own. “Can I?”

“Take whatever you want.”

So he did.

* * *

 

After, all was quiet and still. Obi-Wan was resting on Anakin’s chest, their breathing evening out. Anakin’s hands were in Obi-Wan’s hair where he liked them to be.

The thick quilt was covering Obi-Wan up to the middle of his back. So, when one of Anakin’s hands slipped below the quilt, Obi-Wan gave him a look.

“One round is quite enough,” he giggled.

“For you, maybe.” He snickered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Obi-Wan blushed violently, making Anakin kiss him fiercely.

“Relax, I know. I’m glad,” he murmured, “that you decided I was worthy.”

He smiled up at the blond who brushed sweaty curls out of Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Anakin,” he murmured, nuzzling his head into Anakin’s hand.

“Hearing you say my name gives me a horrible case of nostalgia.” He pressed more kisses into Obi-Wan’s forehead. “And seeing those bites will let _everyone_ know you’re mine.”

“Yours?” Obi-Wan asked in a teasing tone.

When Anakin met Obi-Wan’s gaze his eyes were dark, almost a gold.

“Mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to write this yesterday but I got side tracked with family. This came out longer than I intended. I planed to stop writing after a few specific points, should have been satisfied with the ending, but no, I kept writing. Anyways, here it is. Hope you guys like it!


	3. November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd go through a million hells if it meant keeping Obi-Wan to himself...

November was a dead month. The leaves were brown and flaky. They were weak and ugly. Anakin hated them, so pathetic and disgusting. They’d lost their beauty.

The leaves weren’t like Obi-Wan. He stayed beautiful, radiant even in the cold and darkness. He was perfect, no matter his protests. The girls in designer brands and boys with expensive shoes weren’t perfect, they were proof society had failed. No, Obi-Wan was perfect. He was smart, funny, kind and beautiful. His eyes were so lovely, distant with others but present with him. They were so large and true, full of wonder and angst. Yes, Obi-Wan was perfect.

* * *

 

Since their encounter in October, the two began to spend as much time together as possible. Anakin liked taking him to the beach. The cold, violently present in the cold months, warded people off. This made it perfect for their meetings. Anakin liked stealing Obi-Wan for some time to take him to the vacant beach. The sand was awful, he hated it. But to see Obi-Wan’s eyes light up for some time, it was worth it. So he sat on a blanket and endured. He’d wrap his arms around the smaller as the waves crashed and the blue flames from their fire licked upwards to the midnight sky.

“Do you ever feel small?” Obi-Wan asked in the silence.

Anakin gave him a confused look, drawing his eyebrows close. “What do you mean?”

He took a shaky breath, “Like…you don’t exist? Like you’re so small no one sees you, no one wants to?” His voice got distant, “Like you don’t matter?”

Anakin tipped Obi-Wan’s chin up to him. “You matter. You are so incredibly important to me.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes watered and he seemed to panic. “But what if none of us matter? What if mattering to another person isn’t enough? What if, no matter how big, our impacts will still result in us being forgotten? What happens then? When there’s no one left to remember you, no one left to care?” His small hands gripped Anakin’s shirt. “What if…what if none of it matters?”

He made small cooing noises to calm the distraught boy in his arms. Gently, he lifted Obi-Wan into his lap, allowing him to hide his face in Anakin’s neck. “It doesn’t, not really. To be remembered I mean. So long as you matter to one person, truly matter I mean, not some bullshit summer ‘romance’ that the other won’t remember in four years. Obi-Wan, you matter to me.”

Large blue eyes found his own. “You matter to me, too.”

Anakin smiled and pressed their lips together softly, the way he knew Obi-Wan liked, sweet and loving. Obi-Wan’s hands loosely slipped behind Anakin’s neck. They didn’t hold his neck, but they were clasped together and his arms rested on his shoulders. It was such a lazy and happy kiss. He felt Obi-Wan calm down and smile.

“Obi-Wan?” He murmured against the others lips.

He made a soft humming sound in the back of his throat as a response.

And then he said it, those three words every teenage girl dreamt of hearing and probably heard too soon. But at least Anakin meant it; he meant it with all his heart and soul. This beautiful boy in his arms meant it all.

“I love you.”

* * *

 

Obi-Wan and Anakin were driving. Where? Neither knew. It seemed they were just making random turns and enjoying the scenery.

November caused all the trees to lose their leaves, leaving behind stark branches revealing everything they tried to hide.

Anakin looked over to Obi-Wan and saw he had his feet up on the dashboard and he was humming along with the song playing rather loudly. It was Artic Monkeys, _I Wanna Be Yours._ It was a good song and listening to Obi-Wan sing along made him grin broadly.

When they stopped for gas Obi-Wan went into the little convince store with greasy old men and young women addicted to their power candy lingering around. Obi-Wan most certainly didn’t fit in and Anakin wasn’t comfortable letting him go in, but he had given Anakin’s cheek a wet kiss and then scampered off.

He watched through the window of his car and Obi-Wan scooped up a mountainous amount of chocolate and sugary candy. He handed the cashier a few crumpled dollar bills he’d found in Anakin’s car. He then proceeded to skip out of the store and hop into the car. He sweetly grinned at Anakin as he peeled out of the sleazy station.

Obi-Wan was chewing on a chocolate bar when Anakin spoke.

“Thank god for Thanksgiving break right?”

Obi-Wan made a noise of enthusiasm and agreement.

Anakin laughed and laced their fingers together, earning him a soft look. “What’d you tell your parents to get away for the weekend?”

A shadow passed across Obi-Wan’s face. “I didn’t,” he murmured.

“Oh?” Anakin questioned softly, making sure not to upset him too much.

“I left them a note on the fridge saying I’d be with my boyfriend for the break.”

He could imagine a bright eyed Obi-Wan scribbling a note down with a dying marker on a sticky note and leaving it stuck on their refrigerator. He smiled and gave Obi-Wan’s hand a squeeze. He knew he had a shit relationship with his parents. His mother was some Peace Corps activist who spent so much time trying to save everyone she forgot to save her own son. Anakin had figured out by now that Obi-Wan’s dad was a drunk who drank to forget the fact that his wife cared more about strangers than him. He knew he’d slapped around Obi-Wan on more than one occasion. Back in September Obi-Wan had been six periods late in an eight period school day because his dad had gone ballistic.

Obi-Wan had begged him not to do anything, only convincing him by saying he’d get taken away from the small town of Coruscant. Anakin only did as he wished because a life without Obi-Wan wasn’t a life at all, not anymore. So he was waiting for them to finish school so they could spring the damn town.

And now, as Obi-Wan sat humming and eating chocolate bars in his passenger seat with his hand in Anakin’s he was certain this was the best it would ever get. There was no Nirvana or heaven if he had this stunning boy by his side. He’d go through a thousand hells if it meant keeping Obi-Wan.

He’d go through a million hells if it meant keeping Obi-Wan to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ew this is so short and bad, I'm so sorry. I'm writing this before dance and after three hours of homework. Oh well, I tried. 
> 
> Someone asked me to not kill Obi-Wan and I will say nothing, just read and find out my dear. If he dies, it's to further certain events and developments with Anakin's character. I'm so mean to him, he's my favorite character XD
> 
> Oh my god can you just imagine Obi-Wan with his feet up on the dashboard humming along to an indie song and eating a chocolate bar?? All while holding hands with Anakin? Oh my heart!


	4. December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then, he   
> F   
> E  
> L  
> L

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for: suicide, mentions of child abuse, shootings and depression.

December was, on the inside, cold and bitter, but was dressed up with pretty lights and delicate shades of white. The truth could be seen when the biting wind tore through you, taking what it wanted and leaving behind pain. The truth could be seen in the form of cold breaths and shaky hands. December was wrapped up neatly with a pretty bow. It was all bright lights, lovely snow and holidays. December was a person.

They stopped meeting on the roof because Obi-Wan couldn’t handle the cold very well. He’d shake and shiver. His nose and cheeks would turn a worrying shade of red. Anakin was positive Obi-Wan couldn’t retain heat, but it didn’t matter, Anakin was warm enough for the both of them. So now they spent sixth period hidden between the shelves in the library. The fake existentialists stared and whispered, and neither boy could smoke, but Anakin didn’t mind, Obi-Wan seemed content.

But things weren’t perfect. They seemed okay, but they weren’t.

* * *

 

December was an event.

On night, around eleven o’clock, Anakin’s phone started to ring. He had been laying on his stomach with loud music blasting, an indie punk band Obi-Wan loved. He had an old, battered poetry book in front of him, reading the lines Obi-Wan had highlighted. Quickly, he answered when he read the name. _Obi-Wan_.

“Hello?”

There was the sound of uneven breathing, the one you get when you’ve been crying. “ _Anakin_?” The voice was raw, quiet and desperate.

“Obi-Wan? What’s wrong, what happened?” He was fully siting up now.

A soft sob, “ _Can you come get me, please? I’m at my house, I just…” more crying. “I need to get away, please Anakin, I need_ you _._ ”

Anakin had never left his house in such a hurry before. He forgot his shoes and a coat, but he was in his car in less than four minutes. He worried the entire way there. What had happened? Had his lunatic father gotten at him? If he had, he’d kill that psycho. Obi-Wan was his, no one was allowed to hurt him.

When he pulled up at Obi-Wan’s house he considered honking, but in the end passed. If Obi-Wan had gotten thrown around by his dad then honking would signal his escaping son. Besides, it didn’t matter because the front door opened a second later and Obi-Wan came out. He jumped into the passenger seat and Anakin peeled out of his driveway.

They were silent for a few moment, the air filled with heavy breathing and shaky sobs on Obi-Wan’s behalf. Anakin stole several glances at Obi-Wan. His eyes were red and puffy making his face look paler than usual. His freckles stood of his face almost hauntingly. His hair was disheveled and wild, the same for his clothing. He had on a huge sweater that seemed to swallow him whole.

Anakin drove them into an abandoned lot, parking the car and turning to look at Obi-Wan. The smaller faced him and sniffled.

“Are you okay?” he asked tenderly, cupping one side of his face. “Did your dad…” he trailed off at Obi-Wan shaking his head.

“We’re all so small.” He whispered. “I wanted to be something, _anything._ I wanted to be the universe, all the galaxy’s, planets and stars. I wanted to be more than I am, but I just can’t. That’s not who I am, that’s not who I’ll ever be. I’m so small. I’m so scared, Anakin. I’m so scared to lose everything that means nothing.”

He took a deep breath and let a few tears slip out.

“I feel so small. So insignificant.”

“We are small. We mean nothing. Not in the grand scheme of things.”

Obi-Wan seemed torn at Anakin’s input. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

“But,” he spoke again, Obi-Wan’s eyes finding his face once more. “You mean something to me, you mean everything to me. You don’t have to be everyone’s universe, because you’re already mine.”

Obi-Wan’s lips parted slightly and his eyes resembled that of a doe’s. “Anakin…” he breathed.

The blond boy smiled down lovingly and maybe it would be okay.

* * *

 

They drove around all of town. Obi-Wan loved being in a car, he felt safe. He was at his physiological best in a moving vehicle. He knew there was a scientific reason for it; too, he just didn’t care.

At one point, Anakin was driving slowly because a specific street had a lot of stop signs, so Obi-Wan rolled down his window and let his arm ride up and down the wind waves. He laughed and smiled, singing along to the song and Anakin had never been so in love.

They eventually drove out of town. Outside of Coruscant there wasn’t anything but a road that cut straight through nature. The grass was intertwined with little colorful flowers that had managed to survive. There were mountains, rather close, growing from the ground and racing towards the sky. The air was misty and painted with fog. Obi-Wan’s soft laugh hung in the air along with the soft notes of the music. It was perfect.

* * *

 

Perfection doesn’t last forever. Obi-Wan’s large smile was slapped off his face the second Anakin turned onto his street. His eyes grew impossibly large and looked absolutely betrayed.

“Anakin?” he asked with a note of horror in his voice. “Why are we here?”

“Obi-Wan, you have to go home…” he said softly, because truly, he didn’t want to let the small boy go, he wanted to drive through nature with Obi-Wan next to him, his laugh filling the empty spaces.

“This _house_ ,” he spat, “is _not_ a _home._ ”

Anakin felt like he’d gained twenty years. “I don’t want you to go, but we can’t just leave, not now, not yet.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, half hysterical.

“Because, we’re both still in high school, we can’t survive on our own. You know that.”

“No!” he cried out. “Why can’t we just go? I can take money from my parents safe, neither of them would know. We could get out of here,” he crawled close to Anakin and cupped his face, resting their foreheads together. “We could be together, forever and _free_. How perfect would that be?”

It would be perfect, Anakin wished he could say. Having Obi-Wan to himself and safe. It was all he wanted, but they’d get dragged back. They had to wait, they had to wait for them to both be legal, or else, they’d lose each other.

“We can’t.” he said instead.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were wet as he pulled away. He reached for the door when Anakin pulled him back. He pressed their lips together and he pretended it was okay.

“I love you, Obi-Wan.”

“I love you too,” he whispered. And then he was gone.

* * *

 

Obi-Wan wasn’t in school that day, he was nowhere.

* * *

 

December was pain.

* * *

 

Anakin went over to Obi-Wan’s house after to school, to make sure he was all right. He crept up the noisy stairs and found himself in Obi-Wan’s room.

His small body was curled up in the fetal position; he looked like he was sleeping.

“Obi-Wan?”

Nothing.

He walked over to the sleeping boy and shook him lightly.

Nothing.

And then he saw that Obi-Wan was curled around an empty pill bottle.

His eyes grew large and he cried out. “Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan! Wake up, wake up!” he shook the body and screamed. He remembered in movies when someone had too much to drink, you put them in a cold shower to wake them up.

He dragged Obi-Wan to the bathroom.

He lifted his limp body and lay him down on top of himself in the old bathtub.

“Don’t you die, Obi-Wan, don’t you die!” he cried out. He turned on the shower and pulled Obi-Wan in with him. He stuck his fingers down his throat and felt the small body wretch and throw up some pills, not enough.

“Obi-Wan!” he screamed, hoping his cries would bring him back. His tears mixed with the cold shower water and he had never felt so broken.

“I love you,” he sobbed, “please come back.”

He didn’t.

* * *

 

The principle had a big assembly for Obi-Wan the day after he died. It was complete bullshit. He talked about how Obi-Wan had been such a ‘ _great and passionate soul.’_ It was the generic suicide speech. The tragedy of suicide was an odd one. It was the one death that pulled people apart; Anakin figured it was because of the blame.

He saw, in the auditorium, the friends Obi-Wan had disliked to terribly much. A girl with dark brown curls and nails painted black for this situation, she was the kind of person who painted their nail based on the goddamn time of day, stood with a tall boy who looked absolutely devastated. His icy blue eyes and long light brown hair seemed burnt out. There were two other boys; Anakin knew them, Cody and Bail Organa. They both looked distressed, but no one seemed hurt aside from the tall boy.

As the assembly let out, the tall boy found Anakin.

“Are you Anakin?” he asked.

His eyes sharpened. “Yeah? And you are?”

“Qui-Gon, I’m…I was,” he correctly sadly, “Obi-Wan’s friend.”

Anakin almost snorted. Obi-Wan had been running from them, from this person. They hadn’t been _friends._

He gave a curt nod, “I was his boyfriend.” Such a stupid word, really. One used by teenage girls giggling over a celebrity who they wished to meet. Obi-Wan had been his entire universe, he still was.

Qui-Gon looked like he had been slapped. “Obi-Wan never said he was dating anyone…” his eyes got cloudy, “But I guess he stopped talking to all of us in general after a while.” His eyes pierced through Anakin and he knew. He knew Qui-Gon was silently asking, _what made you so special?_

It was so blatantly obvious this boy had wished to have Obi-Wan to himself. It was disgusting because even in death, Obi-Wan was his.

“He was depressed,” was all Anakin said.

Qui-Gon glared at him. “I know. He wouldn’t let me help.” His eyes softened and he stared off into space. “Why wouldn’t he let me help?” he whispered to himself more than Anakin.

 _Because!_ Anakin wanted to scream. _He had me! He didn’t need you!_

Instead, he said nothing.

“Did he…” Qui-Gon broke the silence, then lapsed back into it. “Did he ever mention me?”

Hitting Qui-Gon would have been wrong, but it didn’t stop the desire from bubbling to the surface.

“Does it matter?” He snapped.

The glare returned. “To me it does.”

“Well, to me, it doesn’t.”

He turned on his heel and walked away. Qui-Gon shouted after him, apologizing, desperate to know if his illusion of Obi-Wan had been real. Anakin didn’t care about him; he didn’t care about anyone, not any living people at least. He threw his hood up and walked out of the school. He hated it there and so did Obi-Wan.

* * *

 

Anakin wasn’t allowed to go to Obi-Wan’s funeral, a private event he had been told, was no place for childish boyfriends. What complete and utter bullshit. If Obi-Wan had asked Anakin to burn down the world, Anakin could have asked where to through the match first.

So he visited after. He had considered bring Obi-Wan a huge bouquet of white roses and babies-breath. They looked nice but they seemed almost impersonal. So instead, he painted the roses black and got rosemary. The black roses were for death, oddity, really, and the rosemary for remembrance. He brought eleven sticky notes with Obi-Wan’s eleven favorite quotes. When he placed them by the grave he felt a soft breeze dance over his skin, completely out of character for a frozen day in December. He knew it was Obi-Wan. Anakin sat by his dead lover’s grave for hours just talking. He knew Obi-Wan could hear him. It was a comfort like none other to know Obi-Wan was still there.

Every day at sixth period, Anakin would find himself sitting at Obi-Wan’s grave, talking. His mother begged him to see a therapist, he refused. He didn’t need a shrink, he needed Obi-Wan. And if the only way to have him now was to sit in a vacant grave yard, then he’d sit there for as long as possible.

Some days, Obi-Wan let him know he was there. He’d pull flowers from other graves and brush them into his lap, the wind carrying them. But for some reason, the flowers were never there when he opened the door to his house. Or, he’d blow a soft wind around him, offering him warmth in the icy cold. Oh yes, Obi-Wan was there.

And then, one day, Obi-Wan was in his room. A soft voice, whispering to him, telling him what to do.

He told Anakin to kill.

* * *

 

So he did.

He killed everyone he could.

* * *

 

The police showed up too late. They were always too late. He had killed every student Obi-Wan told him to. Qui-Gon, Padme, Bail, Cody, along with nameless students and teachers. Whatever Obi-Wan wanted, Anakin would do. He could feel him, smell his, hear him. Oh god, he was there, truly there. He could hear his sweet voice picking out who he wanted to die. He could smell his soft scent that screamed Obi-Wan. It was the old book smell, ink on the pages, and lavender. Mint too. Oh it was nice to smell it again. And then, he could feel him. The warmth pressed up against him, as he led him through the halls.

When it was over, Obi-Wan pulled him up to the roof. He heard the sirens scream loudly as they raced against a frozen clock.

Anakin was standing on the edge of the roof. His eyes kept drifting to the ladder that led to the top, half expecting to see Obi-Wan climb up with an old book and a smile. He never did.

So instead, Obi-Wan whispered, saying he had one more person to kill…himself.

Anakin smiled, he’d be Obi-Wan again.

“To end as we began is such a lovely way to go.”

And then, he

F

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L

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okiee dookie. That's the end. I was originally planning on doing twelve chapters, but, it would have been too drawn out, so instead, you get on super long finally. 
> 
> Anakin's mental detrition is something I'd like to point out. At the start of the chapter, he was only possessive and wanted what was best for Obi-Wan, but after his suicide, he lost it. In the graveyard, he was hallucinating the flowers and warm breezes coming to him. At the school, he hallucinated Obi-Wan's presence. Like I said at the beginning of all this madness, psychopathology. Losing Obi-Wan was his trigger. 
> 
> Obi-Wan also isn't completely innocent. His father was abusing him and his mother had been neglecting him since he was a child, so when they were in the car outside his house and he's begging Anakin, he is trying to take advantage of certain weaknesses. He knows Anakin is madly (literally) in love with him, and he's using that to his advantage, hoping it will push Anakin to taking him away. It doesn't, but when Obi-Wan is found dead, it puts a lot of guilt on Anakin, who feels that if he had listened, Obi-Wan would still be alive. 
> 
> I don't exactly know what I'm doing after this, I'm debating over a Crime Lord! Anakin or a vampire fic. I'm not sure. Comment what you guys want most.

**Author's Note:**

> Anakin meets Obi-Wan and is immediately fixated on him. He has a bad habit of being rather possessive of what he deems his own. And poor Obi-Wan had just been deemed his most favorite prize. Obi-Wan won't suffer much, as he just as fixated on death as Anakin. But when the blond boy loses his favorite possession, the voices win out and everyone else has to pay for Anakin's loss. 
> 
> Warning: This story deals with extremely dark topics such as, murder, suicide, psychosis, psychopathology, cutting and smoking. This story does not promote any of these acts and I don't own the character.


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